


Things Already Said

by balloonwhisk



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, Mark and Damien's weird psuedo mind connection thing, Minor Injuries, Post-Canon, obligatory Mark bumps into Damien while on tour fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 20:43:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15893787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/balloonwhisk/pseuds/balloonwhisk
Summary: Damien gets a not entirely unwelcome early morning surprise.





	Things Already Said

Dawn had broken by the time Damien’s shift was over. He said goodbye to a bleary-eyed Alex who was preparing for taking over for the morning by chugging the remains of the coffee that had been percolating since around midnight, pulled his hoodie over his head, and stepped out of the store. His thoughts were bouncing between the mountain of laundry he’d been putting off for two weeks, the slim possibility that he would have time to get some shuteye before he had to be at the diner and why the sun had to be so goddamn bright this early in the morning. He fumbled around his pockets for the granola bar he was sure he had stashed there, let out a _HA!_ of triumph when he located it and crammed it into his mouth.

“Hey!”

Damien turned around, attempting a menacing scowl around chipmunk cheeks. He was greeted by his wallet shoved into his face.

“You dropped this.”

Damien snatched it out of the guy’s hand. He tamped down on the urge to check if anything had been taken, there wouldn’t have been time. _Say “thank you,”_ insisted the annoying voice of Dr. B in his head. He swallowed the giant ball of oaty mush in his mouth and looked up.

“Hello, Damien.” Mark said. His voice was infuriatingly calm but his shoulders were hunched.

Damien just blinked at him dumbfounded. He was finding it hard to draw in a breath. Mark’s eyebrows creased with worry and he took a step towards Damien. Damien shut his eyes and silently counted down from ten, willing the image of Mark to disappear by the time he was done. When he got to four, he felt a hand clamp on his arm and he had to resign himself to the fact that this was really happening. He opened his eyes. Mark was peering at him, the concern in his expression melting into weariness. His sharp gaze darted around Damien’s face. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to faint.”

“I’m fine.” Damien wrenched his arm away. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I went for a walk. Took some pictures. The park a few blocks away is beautiful in the early morning light.”

“That’s not what I mean, asshole. What are you doing _here?_ ” Damien blanched. “Do you live here now?”

“No, we’re only here until tomorrow.”

“ _We?_ ” Damien scoffed. “So what, are you and Sam finally taking that road trip you were yammering on about nonstop?”

“Sam’s not with me.” Mark said, looking down at his hands.

“Oh.” Damien could feel a tiny hope start to take root inside him and he stomped it down viciously. “What then?”

“I’m on tour with a band. They have a gig here tonight.”

Damien was startled enough by that to look at Mark head on for the first time. “What the hell are you doing with a band?”

Mark made an expansive gesture with his arms encompassing the satchel around his hip and the camera around his neck. “I’m taking photos.”

“Okay.” Damien scratched the side of his neck. “What’s the band? Where are they playing?”

Mark gave him a slight smile. “I’m not gonna tell you that.”

“Then why-” Damien snapped, but softened his tone when a couple of crows perched on a nearby tree cawed angrily and took flight. “Why are you talking to me?”

Mark didn’t answer. Damien threw all his concentration behind reaching into Mark’s mind, not even to try to influence him but to figure out what the fuck was going on in there. Mark had wanted to be left alone and Damien had complied. He’d left his whole life behind and started over from nothing. Again. And now Mark was impossibly standing in front of him, had come up to him and was not walking away. He didn’t trust it.

Mark jolted. “Is your ability back?”

Damien pulled away. “Not exactly,” he admitted, “I can get a sense of people’s emotions sometimes. But I can’t change them.” He frowned. “You felt that?”

“A bit.” Mark looked around as if searching for a way to describe the sensation. “It’s kind of like you’ve got your ear on the door to my mind, if that makes sense.”

“Huh. Nobody said anything before.”

“You’ve been doing this a lot?”

“Yeah, I mean, I’m practising. How else would I get my power back?”

“You still want it back?” Mark asked. “After everything?”

Damien looked at Mark, his stupid brown eyes sincere and imploring and exactly as he remembered them. He knew Mark wanted him to say _no, I don’t want it back_ , but he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t just give up, he had to keep trying. What else was there? “I don’t know.”

Suddenly Mark was really close, except he hadn’t moved at all. Damien could feel him everywhere, like a full body hug that left you overly warm and breathless. And then he was gone. Of course Mark was better at this than him.

Mark considered him for another moment. “Okay.”

Damien averted his eyes and pulled his hoodie tighter around himself. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Not right now.”

“Well, I do.” Though it was still early in the morning, Damien was too tired to deal with how surreal this day was shaping up to be. He couldn’t stop himself from blurting out, “my place is a 15 minute walk from here.”

“Let’s go.”

\---

Damien led them through the sleepy streets with his customary graceless stride, grudgingly stopping when Mark wanted to take pictures. Once, they stopped so that Mark could grab a half-eaten bologna sandwich from his bag and feed a ginger cat that followed them for a few blocks.

“He reminds me of Darwin a bit.” Mark said as the cat rubbed his head all over his shoes.

Damien gave him an odd smile. “Come on. We’re almost there.”

Damien’s apartment, which he explained he shared with a roommate he never really saw, was on the fourth floor of a building with a broken elevator. Inside was stark and beige, with a thick carpet covering the floor, reminiscent of the motel rooms they’d lived out of the previous summer.

Damien shucked off his hoodie and pointed Mark towards a faded gray couch. “I don’t have any food. Do you want something to drink? I think I’ve got a few beers in the fridge.”

“I-uh… I don’t drink anymore. Also, it’s like seven in the morning.”

“Ah. I’ve been up for a while.” Damien rummaged in the cupboards. “I can make coffee. And I _know_ I have some ginger tea somewhere but Jordan keeps moving things around...”

Mark took off his satchel and camera and sat down, the lack of sleep and the hours spent wandering around the city finally catching up to him. He watched Damien clatter around the kitchenette like a small ball of annoyance. His hair had grown long enough to be pulled back into a loose bun at the base of his neck, the shocking orange of it the only bit of color in the drab surroundings. The collar of his shirt was open and as he moved, Mark caught glimpses of the the tattoo running across his collarbone, just making out the soft edge of the waxing gibbous.

Damien’s voice came into focus. “So what do you want?”

“Huh?”

“You want coffee or tea? I found a box of that citrusy crap you were so fond of.” He shook a box of Earl Gray tea bags towards Mark.

“Tea is fine.”

Damien turned around and busied himself with the kettle. Mark reached out again, softly this time. He could make out the shape of Damien’s mind, but he didn’t try to make contact. He just looked. From far away he could feel the nerves, betrayed by the incessant tapping of Damien’s fingers on the counter, the hope and the resignation, and the longing that hooked itself onto Mark’s own heart. Damien made a small pained noise and Mark pulled back on instinct.

Damien finished brewing the tea in silence and brought it over. Instead of sitting next to Mark on the couch, he perched on the coffee table opposite and placed the mug beside himself. Mark picked it up and made a face at the distressingly accurate illustrations of bees adorning the sides. Damien shrugged. “It’s the only clean one left.”

Mark took a sip. “So.”

“So.”

“This is where you live now.”

“Yep.”

“It’s… cozy.”

Damien snorted. “It’s a shithole.”

“Eh. We’ve seen worse.”

“True.” Damien conceded. “Still wouldn’t risk using a black light on the couch though.”

Mark laughed and knocked his knee against Damien’s. “Probably for the best.”

Damien’s face softened and Mark turned his attention to taking a big gulp of tea. He could feel Damien’s gaze on him and his insides grew warmer in an oddly familiar way that suggested it was coming from Damien. It was the same thread that had snapped back in March, leaving him lighter. Mark shut himself down against it, and he could tell that Damien felt it too, because he suddenly looked like he’d been slapped.

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Damien shook his head. “I didn’t mean to, I swear. It’s just… there.”

“Yeah.” Mark put down the mug and rubbed his eyes.

“Is that why you’re here?” Damien asked with a slight note of panic.

“What?”

“Did I make you come with me?”

“No, no. This is different. I’m just... _aware_ of you.” Mark hesitated before adding, “I felt you leave, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I knew the moment you left the city.”

Damien frowned. “How?”

“I don’t know, but it was like a weight was lifted off of me.”

“That’s nice.” Damien sneered.

“I’m not trying to be mean,” Mark said, exasperated, “I’m just trying to explain. I was walking around today and I saw you and it was still there.” He threw up his hands in defeat. “Your irritation with the world is like a beacon, apparently.”

“This isn’t my fault!”

“It kind of is.”

Damien stood up abruptly and walked a few paces. “You started it when you _caved in my brain!_ ”

“Because that had nothing to do with you kidnapping me and lying to me for months!”

“Here we go, we’re doing this again?”

“Why do you have to be so fucking impossible?” Mark asked, not really expecting an answer. He looked up at Damien. “Will you sit down? Stop looming over me. It’s weird.”

Damien huffed and sat beside Mark on the couch.

“That’s better.”

Damien cast a sideways glance at Mark. “I’m sorry.”

Mark let out a humorless laugh. “Really? What for?”

“Everything.”

Mark sighed. “Can you vague that up for me?”

“Mark.”

Mark had heard Damien say his name about a million different ways: worried when he fell over during their daily physical exercises in the early weeks, teasing him about his glee over his first plate of chili cheese fries in five years, furious when Mark’s will threatened to overtake his own in an argument, sleek when he was doing a bit for the receptionist at the motel, soothing after a bout of particularly gruesome nightmares. This was the worst. It was the way he’d said it the last time they saw each other, like he’d been stabbed in the throat and Mark’s name was the only thing he was capable of getting out. Mark sagged against the couch, hating how he was still helpless against it.

Damien was quiet for a long time, though his rapidly shifting facial expressions suggested that there was some internal battle going on. Finally, he took a deep breath. “You wanna take a nap?”

“What?”

“I know that face. That’s your _I’m going to be an insufferable toddler if I don’t get my nap_ face.”

“I don’t have a… _toddler_ face!” Mark sputtered.

“Sure you don’t.” Damien made a show of yawning. “Well, I’d like to get in a few hours before my shift. I think I’ve had eight hours of sleep total in the past three days, so.”

“Okay, I’ll get going then.”

“No!” Damien hastened to add, “I mean, you can leave if you want to, obviously.”

Mark rolled his eyes.

“But, you’re, you know, welcome to stay.”

Mark bounced on the couch a few times. “I don’t think I’ll fit on here.”

“No problem, we can share my bed. It’s big enough.”

“Excuse me?”

“Come on, it’s not like we haven’t done it before. And you know you always sleep better with someone. It’s more comfortable, you fall asleep easier…” Damien said in a know-it-all tone.

“I’m not sleeping with you!”

“Suit yourself.” Damien clapped Mark on the shoulder, leveraged himself up and made his way to the back of the apartment.

Mark let out a frustrated growl, but he had to admit that it wasn’t the worst idea in the world. Or, okay, maybe it was, but he really was exhausted. The show tonight was pretty important and passing out draped over a tripod would probably not go over so well. And he was dreading the trip back to the Airbnb he was sharing with the band. He stood up, sighed and followed Damien to what was presumably his bedroom.

When he got there Damien was already down to his boxers and was rooting through his closet. He turned around with a couple of worn-looking t-shirts clutched to his chest, and a naked look of relief on his face that he hastily schooled into a scowl. “What are you smiling at?”

“You’re one giant freckle! I thought you stayed away from the sunlight, lest you melt away.”

“I’m a dog walker on the weekends.” Damien said defensively. “It gets hot.”

Mark’s smile widened. “There’s this great new invention called sunscreen. You should check it out.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” He threw one of the t-shirts at Mark’s face.

Mark unfolded the t-shirt and narrowed his eyes at it. “This is mine!”

“Well, technically _I_ got it for you, so it’s mine.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Will you just put it on and get in bed already?”

“Fine.” Mark quickly took off his clothes and put on the Superman t-shirt that he distinctly remembered Damien not actually paying for. By the time he was done, Damien was already in bed and jamming angrily at the screen of his phone.

“Get the curtains?”

Mark heaved a long suffering sigh and did as he was asked. The early morning light in the room only marginally dimmed, but it would have to do. He got into bed himself, trying very hard to not notice that Damien had remembered the side of the bed he preferred. The moment he settled down, his whole body began humming happily.

Damien put his phone away and asked, “I gotta be up at ten thirty at the latest. That cool?”

Mark nodded absently, burrowing further into his pillow, which didn’t smell as musty as he had feared. Damien was silent for long enough that Mark cracked one eye open to check if he’d passed out already. Damien was was watching him with an expression on his face that Mark had never really seen before which made him feel a bit unsettled, so he plopped a hand on Damien’s face and pushed him away. “ _Sleep now._ ” His hand slipped from Damien’s head down to his chest, which he patted perfunctorily a few times, and then he was asleep.

\---

Damien was standing at a busy intersection, the last time he had ever seen Luna, almost a decade ago now, laid out before him in painfully detailed technicolor. Except, instead of kneeing him in the balls and walking out of his life forever, Luna was coming at him with a chainsaw. Damien was stuck in place as she planted herself before him, revved up the chainsaw and brought it down on him in a smooth arc, cutting through his right arm as if it were tissue paper. He jolted awake and tried to get away but he couldn’t. Mark had both hands in a death grip around his arm, nails digging in deep. He was shaking in a horribly familiar way that had Damien tasting bile at the back of his throat.

“Mark, wake up!” Damien yelled hoarsely as he tried to pry Mark’s fingers off. Failing that, he buried his free hand into Mark’s hair, trying to find the spot at the base of his neck that had always soothed him. “ _Mark!_ ”

Mark opened his eyes and pushed Damien away so violently that he almost fell off the bed. He caught the hem of Damien’s t-shirt and pulled him back before he could topple over. He had that vacant look in his eyes that always terrified Damien, no matter how many times he’d seen it.

“Mark?” Damien whispered, reaching out again to brush Mark’s sweaty hair back from his forehead. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Mark blinked a couple of times and finally he was himself again. “What happened?”

“You had a nightmare.” Damien looked Mark over to make sure he was alright. “Can you let go of me so I can get some water?”

Mark nodded and loosened his fist around Damien’s shirt. Damien got out of bed and made his way to the kitchen. He caught sight of himself in the mirror by the front door and stared at his reflection for a long moment, taking in the angry bruises beginning to form around his arm. Mark must have wrung it like a wet rag. His fingers hovered over the handprint as if to press on it but then he shook himself and stomped towards the sink. He filled a glass and downed it in one go, then he filled it again and brought it back to the bedroom.

Mark was curled into a ball on the bed. Damien sat down beside him and rubbed his back until he unwound and sat up. They silently went on with their post-nightmare routine, perfected over dozens of nights. Mark wiped his eyes as Damien pretended to find the pattern of the curtains fascinating and then handed Mark the glass of water. As Mark took small sips, Damien busied himself with straightening out the blankets and pillows. He only looked back at Mark when he heard the soft thump of the glass being set down on the floor by the bed. He tried his most reassuring smile, which was, admittedly, not very effective. “You good?”

“What time is it?”

Damien grabbed his phone to check. “Almost nine.”

“Okay.” Mark caught sight of Damien’s arm. “Did I hurt you?”

“It’s fine.”

“Let me see.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Damien.” Mark grabbed Damien’s wrist and gently turned his arm, his brow furrowing as he took in the mottled imprints of his hands. “This looks bad.”

“I told you, it’s fine.” Damien shrugged as much as he could with his arm still in Mark’s grip. “Not the first time.” Plus, a few bruises were infinitely more preferable to having to wrestle Mark down the bed to stop him from hurting himself. He wasn’t going to bring that up, though.

Mark let go of him and flopped down on his back. “I know,” he said wearily.

Damien lay next to him and poked him in the shoulder. “Don’t sulk. It really doesn’t work with your face.”

Mark graced him with the tiniest of smiles.

“Come on,” Damien fluffed his pillow. “I need all the sleep I can get to survive the rest of today.”

“Can you-” Mark huffed through his nose and started again, slowly, as if the words were being pulled out of him by pliers. “Can you hold me? Like you used to?”

“What?” Damien choked out.

Mark continued to stare at the ceiling. “Just for a bit. Please?”

Damien watched Mark’s profile, taking in his downturned mouth, the tightness in his shoulders and the sound of his uneven breathing. He shimmied closer and tucked himself around Mark’s side, throwing an arm across Mark’s chest. “Okay?”

Mark relaxed somewhat. “Yeah.”

Damien nosed along Mark’s hairline, his lips brushing Mark’s temple. Slowly, Mark leaned into Damien, angling his body towards him so that one of Damien’s legs was trapped between his. Damien gave him a squeeze and, even though he knew he didn’t have his power anymore and even though it had never worked when he did and, in fact, had only made Mark more upset and pissed off, he wanted with everything he had that Mark be alright. As he dozed off, he felt Mark nuzzle into his neck. He curled his hand around Mark’s shoulder, and held on.

\---

The next time Mark woke, Damien was standing over him fully dressed and with a toothbrush in his hand.

“Wha-?”

“I gotta leave for work.” Damien said around a mouthful of toothpaste.

“Oh.” Mark sat up too fast, causing his vision to momentarily blackout.

Damien nodded curtly and walked out. Mark yawned and got up. He put on his shirt and pants which he had left hanging on the back of a chair and spent some time trying to locate the missing pair of his shoes. He finally found it under the bed frame, where Damien must have accidentally kicked it. He was crawling under the bed trying to reach it when he heard Damien’s footsteps come back into the room.

“What the hell are you doing on the floor?” Damien asked, amused.

Mark got out from under the bed, waving his shoe triumphantly. Damien laughed, and reached out to brush a hand through Mark’s hair. “Dust bunny,” he explained.

Mark coughed. “Thanks.” He quickly put on his shoes. “Bathroom?”

“First door on the left.”

Mark took a leak and splashed some water on his face. He went into the living room to check his phone, which showed five missed calls and fourteen increasingly worried text messages. He texted Kayla that he had gotten a little turned around on his walk and was on his way back, and Joan that he would call her later.

“You got everything?” Damien asked from the doorway.

Mark, grabbed his bag, hung his camera around his neck and gave him a thumbs up.

They left the apartment and went down the stairs in silence. When they got out to the street, Damien stopped him with a hand on his arm. Mark turned and Damien pointed towards the opposite direction from which they came. “I’m going this way.”

“Alright.”

Damien’s eyes searched his face. “Are you hungry? I could get you breakfast at the diner.” He smirked. “The pancakes are terrible but at least the coffee is decent.”

“I should really be heading back.”

“Oh.” Damien glanced around the street. He looked different. In Mark’s memories, the time they spent together was always at dusk, somehow. It was disconcerting to see Damien’s pale grey eyes go almost colorless in the direct sunlight, to watch him fidgeting on the sidewalk, worrying about something as normal as being late to his job. Mark’s fingers itched to take a photo, but he knew better than to ask.

“Thank you for, you know… It helped.”

Damien waved his gratitude away. “You’re leaving tomorrow?”

“Yep. Bright and early.”

“Where are you headed?”

Mark just smiled at him serenely.

“Can I- Would it be okay if I called you sometime?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Damien.”

“Of course.” Damien nodded to himself. “I guess this is goodbye for good. Again.”

“I guess so.”

“Mark...”

Before Mark could say anything, Damien grabbed his shoulders and kissed him, their noses smooshing uncomfortably against each other. When Damien pulled away, he was clenching his jaw like he was steeling himself to be punched. Mark crowded him against the wall and kissed him properly, one hand on his jaw, his thumb pressing on the corner of Damien’s infuriating mouth, the other over his heart. He felt Damien’s hands on his hips, pulling him closer. The joy of being wanted, _genuinely_ wanted, maybe for the first time, and by this maddening person, and the sorrow of having already lost it all flooded through him. He struggled to keep himself apart, to keep the wave of affection and regret pouring in from Damien at bay, but it took him under. It would always be like this, he realized. Too much.

Damien must have felt that as well, because he pulled away and they managed to disentangle themselves from each other.

“Well,” Damien said, wrapping his arms around himself, “goodbye, then.”

“Goodbye.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, then Mark nodded and turned away. He walked down the street and he didn’t look back.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from [Good Things](https://youtu.be/cgr8e7da52o) by Sleater-Kinney.
> 
> I did indeed lift a line straight from Buffy, because Damien and Buffy are forever linked in my brain.
> 
> Redhead!Damien is inspired by [modelorganism's incredibly real fanart](https://modelorganism.tumblr.com/post/175596610734/i-know-dark-hair-damien-is-popular-fanon-but-ive) because I haven't been able to imagine him any other way since I've seen it, and Mark's Superman t-shirt is a nod to [franartz's amazing fanart](http://franartz.tumblr.com/post/170209062418/follow-up-of-my-last-post-now-whos-the-kidnapped).
> 
> Please let me know if you see any mistakes. Thank you for reading and I hope you liked it!


End file.
